


Reunion

by idontlikegravy (subcircus)



Series: Immortal Giles [3]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Highlander: The Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-17
Updated: 2010-01-18
Packaged: 2017-10-06 09:37:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/subcircus/pseuds/idontlikegravy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Giles gets a visit from a very old acquaintance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> There is mention of Giles/Methos/Byron in chapter 3, but there is nothing above a 15 rating.

Giles was seated at his desk, examining a piece of papyrus that Buffy had sent him for translation. The document was a prophecy, almost as old as he was, and it was a fascinating read. He smiled as he sensed the approach of another Immortal and looked up, expecting to see Xander. Instead, he saw a skinny young man with dishevelled dark hair slouched against the doorframe. Giles' grin broke into a broad smile, which was matched by the visitor. Giles stood and beckoned him inside. "Benjamin!" he said as he hugged him in welcome.

"Actually it's Adam Pierson at the moment Rupert," Adam said as he sat down.

"Sorry. I'm using Rupert Giles still. Of course, you knew that, else how could you find me. Stupid. Sorry," Giles babbled as he went and shut his office door. As pleased as he was to see Methos, the old man always managed to reduce Giles to Willow levels of nervous incoherence for a few minutes until he regained his composure. "So what brings you here old man?" Giles asked as he sat back down.

"Can't I catch up with an old friend after what, thirty, no forty years?" Methos answered. Giles raised an eyebrow and looked at Methos doubtfully. "Ok, so my visit isn't entirely motiveless," he admitted. Giles continued to watch him in silence. He knew that asking questions wouldn't get him anywhere. It was better to wait the old man out. They sat in silence for ten minutes before finally Methos grinned and continued his explanation, "I'm here about that papyrus."

Giles involuntarily lay a hand on the papyrus.

"What's it to you? This prophecy has nothing to do with us, or the Game."

"I wrote it."

"What?" Giles asked, incredulously. "You're not a seer. Was it Cassandra?"

Methos winced slightly at the mention of Cassandra's name before shaking his head.

"No Rupert. This is a bit embarrassing really. I made it up. I never intended it as a prophecy; it was a work of fiction. My first stab at writing a novel, if you like."

Giles stared at the oldest Immortal for a moment before they both burst out laughing.

"Oh my. That is too funny. It's bloody awful by the way," Giles said between guffaws.

"I know. I was hoping to have it back before you read it," Methos said, as he leaned over the desk and snatched the document away, "Bloody hell, my hieratic is atrocious, barely legible."

"Nothing's changed much then," Giles said with a grin and snatched the papyrus back again and examining it. "I've got three words for you. Fancy a beer?"

The two Immortals had ensconced themselves in a corner booth at The Dog &amp; Duck and were merrily chatting as they drank their fourth pint. They discussed the Watchers, the Slayer, and past misadventures in a variety of dead languages to make sure nobody would know what they were saying.

"So, with your Slayer off in Italy, what exactly are you doing with your time? Running the Council can't be too demanding," Methos said with a smile, his words dripping with sarcasm. Giles simply smiled back.

"Well, when I'm not trying to rebuild the Council, find all the new Slayers or recruit new Watchers and assign them a Slayer?" he replied with equal sarcasm, "I'm training a new student, a young man I met in Sunnydale."

"Really?" Methos said with a surprising amount of interest. "So, what's he like?"

"That's it? No lectures on how stupid it is to take on students? How you're more likely to face a challenge protecting a student? Joe was right, MacLeod has mellowed you."

"Joe should learn to keep his big mouth shut," Methos answered, but he was grinning as he said it. He examined the bottom of his glass very carefully, as if expecting to find gold or for the glass to transfigure itself. "Nope," he said at length, "There's definitely nothing left in there."

Taking the hint, Giles sighed and went to the bar. Methos took the opportunity to take in his surroundings. It had been a while since he'd been in a real English pub and drunk real beer, as opposed to the cold piss that was passed off as beer in Europe and the States. The only thing that came close was the schwarzbier of Germany. But even British real ale was nothing compared to the beer of his youth. Over the millennia many things had changed, most for the better, but beer wasn't one of them.

"Do you want to meet him then?" Giles asked, snapping Methos back to the present. Methos looked at him blankly. "Xander? My student?"

"Why would I want to do that?" Methos sneered.

"For the same reason that I decided to teach him. Because he's a remarkable young man who grew up fighting demons on a Hellmouth. And because he's my friend."

"Fine. But don't tell him who I am, okay?"

"No, I'm actually sending a memo out to all the Watchers to let them know who you really are. What do you take me for? Anyway, he should be here any minute," Giles muttered that last part into his pint as he took another sip.

"Excuse me?" Methos demanded, but Giles just looked at him, unabashed.

As they both felt the Buzz of an Immortal they turned to the door and watched Xander enter. Giles waved, and the young Immortal walked over to their booth.  
"Xander Harris, I'd like you to meet an old friend of mine, Adam Pierson. Adam, this is my student Xander," Giles said rather formally. The two shook hands and Xander sat down beside Giles.

"So, how long have you known Giles?"

"Oh, it feels like forever," Methos replied with a sly grin.

"Cool. Did you know his teacher Methos?" Xander said with all the tact and diplomacy of George W Bush.

"Intimately," Methos replied with amusement.

Xander regarded him quizzically for a moment before a look of realisation dawned on him. Methos was suddenly worried he'd said too much until Xander said,

"Adam Pierson! Of course, you're the guy that was working on the Methos chronicles. How's that going?"

Methos inwardly gave a sigh of relief before replying,

"I'm not with the Watchers any more," he said, lowering his voice so as not to be overheard. "Some of them discovered my Immortality, so I left before things became uncomfortable."

"Man, sorry. That must bite," Xander said with genuine sympathy. Methos smiled, he could see why Rupert loved the boy. He was so honest, straightforward and good humoured that it was hard to dislike him. _Just like Richie_, Methos mused with an unexpected pang of sorrow, _I'm sure the two of them would have gotten on like a house on fire._

The three Immortals sat chatting about nothing in particular until closing and then went their separate ways. Giles had reluctantly relinquished the papyrus on the promise that Methos would visit again the next day. He didn't really expect the old man to keep his word, so he was pleasantly surprised to find him waiting outside his office.

"To what do I owe this honour? Twice in one lifetime?" Giles said smiling as he ushered him into his office. Methos didn't return the smile and Rwpyrt realised that this was Methos, no trace of Adam Pierson masking him. "What's wrong?"

"Someone's following me. They ransacked my hotel room."

"One of us?"

"I don't know. The bastard never comes close enough to tell. Maybe, or maybe the Hunters are back."

"I thought we'd eradicated them. After Horton's death so many were tried by the Council, surely we got them all?" Giles said, the concern clear in his face.

"I don't take anything for granted."

"What do you want me to do? There's a monastery I know…"

"No. If it is Hunters I want to be able to fight back. I just need to stay at your place until my flight back Stateside."

"Of course. What's mine is yours. Give me five minutes to ring Xander and warn him that there may be a headhunter about and then we can go to my flat. What's the point of being in charge if you can't take a day off now and again, right?"


	2. Chapter 2

“So has Adam any idea who’s after him?” Xander asked as he parried Giles’ blow.

 

“No. He can’t even be sure if it’s an Immortal or not,” Giles replied. He stepped back and lowered his sword, sweat dripping from him. “Good, that’s very good indeed. That’s enough for today. I suggest you do some visual exercises and then hit the showers. I’m going to shower; Adam is meeting me here in ten minutes.”

 

“Anything I can do to help?”

 

“Thanks Xander, but no. Until we know exactly what’s going on, I don’t wish to place you in any more danger than necessary.”

 

“Er, hello? Earth to Giles? Grew up on a Hellmouth, remember? Lived my entire adolescent life in one kind of demony danger or another.”

 

“Yes but that was different. Demons were unlikely to behead you and vampires can’t turn us, so I knew you were quite safe. If we are up against Hunters then you would have no warning and no protection, not even Holy Ground. It didn’t save Darius,” Giles said, sorrow in his voice.

 

“I’m sorry Giles. Was he a good friend of yours?”

 

“Yes he was. Darius was one of the best of us.”

 

###  _1754 Paris_

_As the Quickening of his opponent entered his body, Rwpyrt felt the approach of another Immortal. The Quickening ended and Rwpyrt collapsed to the floor exhausted. He addressed the newcomer,_

_“J'espère que vous êtes assez honorable pour me permettre de récupérer avant que vous me combattiez,” he said._

_“Je n'ai aucune intention de vous combattre,” the stranger replied. Rwpyrt looked up and saw that the stranger was a priest._

_“Pardonnez-moi mon père, j'a pensé que vous étiez quelqu'un d'autre.”_

_“From your clothes I guess that you are English yes?”_

_“Not exactly father, but English is as good as French to me.”_

_“Oh, Würden Sie Deutsches bevorzugen? O forse italiano?” the priest said with a smile, “I speak most languages,” he added. Realisation dawned on Rwpyrt and he examined the priest anew._

_“Again, forgive me father. You caught me at an inconvenient moment.”_

_“Indeed. Quickenings can be most draining. My church is not far, would you come with me? You can recover a little more, and we can compare other languages if you wish,” the priest said with a chuckle. Rwpyrt returned the smile and nodded. The priest offered his hand and helped Rwpyrt to his feet._

_“My name is Rwpyrt ap Aerwynn.”_

_“Ah,_ _ach Cymraeg. Rwpyrt ap Aerwynn, I am Brother Darius.”_

_Darius led Rwpyrt back to a small church and back to his vestry. There he sat Rwpyrt down and made tea for them both._

_“It has been quite a while since I had Immortal company, I keep to the church and grounds most of the time, but I saw the Quickening and thought you might need assistance.”_

_“That was kind of you. There are many of our kind who might have taken advantage of an unarmed Immortal.”_

_“I suspect there are equally as many willing to take advantage of one weakened by a Quickening, wouldn’t you?” Darius replied. Rwpyrt smiled and nodded. Darius passed him a cup. “I make it myself, it is nettle and camomile.” _

_Rwpyrt took a sip._

_“Most refreshing, thank you.” _

_They sat in silence for a while, drinking the tea, each surreptitiously studying the other. _

_“How long have you been a priest?” Rwpyrt asked eventually._

_“Oh, ,many centuries now. I originally came to Paris as a raider, believe it or not. My name was once as feared as that of the Horsemen,” Darius replied. Giles looked at him in surprise, cautious at the mention of the Horsemen. “Have you heard of a Dark Quickening?” Darius asked._

_“Yes, of course. Legend says that it occurred to Kronos, that he was once a champion.” _

_Giles had heard the stories during his time in the camp. He had never had the courage to ask Methos about it and ever since the thought of absorbing that much evil had haunted him._

_“So legend says. Legend also says that I was once as evil as Kronos.  I took the Quickening of an incredibly good man and it made me lay down my sword. So legend says anyway,” Darius said with a smile._

_“But the truth is?” Rwpyrt asked._

_“To be honest,” Darius replied with a chuckle, “I’m not sure. I did indeed arrive at the gates of Paris seeking to ransack the place. I was challenged by a champion and I beat him. After that day I did put down my sword and choose peace over war. But whether that was due to his Quickening or to my conscience? Who can say for certain?” Darius said and shrugged his shoulders._

_“And you have not fought since?”_

_“Not once. I have spoken peaceably with many Immortals over the years. Some have come round to my way of thinking, some have not. Most at least listen to me and choose their battles more carefully afterwards. Now, do you play chess at all?”_

###  _*-*_

 

“I stayed with Darius for fifty-six years, learning from him. He taught me that Immortals are about more than the Game and fighting. He taught me to avoid challenges whenever possible. Not from cowardice, but because we shouldn’t need to fight each other. A lot of the man you know as Giles is thanks to Darius,” Giles finished.

 

“Know and love G-man, know and love,” Xander said with a grin.

 

“I do wish you wouldn’t call me that. Now stop stalling and go and practise,” Giles said and headed for the shower.

 

The death of Darius had hurt him harder than any other Immortal. Not because he was murdered, or because the atrocity had occurred on Holy Ground. No, it was because there had been no Immortal present to receive the Quickening. All that knowledge, all that wisdom, all that love had been lost forever. Giles tried hard to honour his friend’s memory and practise what Darius had preached, but he hated the Hunters and all they stood for.

 

As an Immortal he wanted to end their interference in the Game that had resulted in the murder of too many good men. As a Watcher he wanted to end their interference that had besmirched everything the Watchers stood for and resulted in the murder of too many good men. He thought the madness had ended with the death of Horton. If it was Hunters following Methos, then he would make damn sure that this time it was really over.

 

Giles headed to his office. As he reached the outer door, he felt another Immortal. He was expecting Methos, but he still opened the door cautiously. The inner door was open and he could see Methos seated behind the desk inside. Giles shook his head and motioned for the elder Immortal to move from his seat.

 

“That’s my chair.”

 

“Is it?” Methos said, feigning surprise, “I had no idea.” He slouched further into the seat. Giles stood and glowered at him for a moment and then gave up with a sigh and sat on one of the armchairs to the side of the office. Methos swivelled in the chair to look at Giles. “So, Rupert,” he said expectantly.

 

“So, Methos?” Giles enquired. Methos simply raised an eyebrow in response. Giles decided to be purposely obtuse and sat in silence looking at his teacher quizzically.

 

Methos smiled. He could play this game better than anyone under ordinary circumstances. But today he wasn’t in the mood for games, he just wanted answers.

 

“Do you know who’s following me?” he asked with a resigned sigh.

 

“No not yet. I’ve had researchers on it all day and I even rang Joe…”

 

“What did you do that for?” Methos whined.

 

“Don’t worry, I didn’t tell him why I wanted to know. I asked him who from his branch is in London at the moment. He listed the regular ones I know about, but that was it. No extra Watchers and no Head-hunters are in the city. At least none of the Watched ones.”

 

“That doesn’t make me feel any better Rupert. Joe wasn’t even able to keep track of his own brother-in-law,” Methos sniped.

 

“Don’t go there, you know as well as I how hard Joe took the Horton mess. I admit it doesn’t rule out a rogue hunter, of either kind, which is why I’ve had one of my men follow you.”

 

“Pardon?”

 

“It stands to reason that if somebody is following you then they should be spotted by someone else following you,” Giles was interrupted by the telephone, which he stood and answered, “Yes….yes Perkins…really?...I see, well that’s very interesting news. Thank you for your diligence Perkins, you can return to your regular duties.”

Giles replaced the receiver and stood looking pensive.

 

“Well?”

 

“Hmm? Oh that was Perkins, the man I put to follow you,” Giles sat back down and began to wipe his glasses.

 

“So? Did he see who’s after me?”

 

“Not who,” Giles replied, “what.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter contains Giles/Methos/Byron, (with implied goat for good measure) though nothing explicit.

Methos strolled down the road and entered a small side street. About twenty paces back from him, his pursuer quickened his pace so as not to lose sight of him. The pursuer was a stocky man, with slightly longer than average arms. When you looked at his face, there was something not quite right about it, and if you managed to keep looking for more than ten seconds, the glamour dissipated and it was possible to see that he had no nose, and that his skin was really purple.

 

The demon followed Methos into the side street, but his quarry had vanished. Confused, the demon jogged a little way down the road. As he passed each doorway he glanced at it, hoping for some glimpse of his quarry. But they were all empty. Halfway down he stopped, disappointed.

 

“Now!” came a voice, and Giles, Xander, Methos and two trainee Slayers leaped out from behind a skip and wrestled the demon to the ground.

 

“Well that was disappointingly easy,” Methos sniped, “I had hoped that it would at least be a fierce demon that was after me.”

 

“Well let’s just hope that whatever his reasons were, he’s acting alone,” Giles replied. He signalled to a van a little farther down the street, which immediately reversed to their location and the rear doors were swung open. They bundled the demon inside and climbed in after, and the van sped off back to Headquarters.

 

“It’s as I suspected, his tattoo proves he’s a member of the clan of Sect Quaquitator demons,” Giles said, snapping shut a heavy leather bound tome.

 

“Sounds like something unholy involving a duck and root vegetables,” Xander quipped. Giles sighed before continuing.

 

“Quaquitator Xander. It’s a shortening of the Order’s original name derived from the Latin, Secuutus Quattuor Equitatus”

 

“The Followers of the Four Horsemen,” Methos said with a worried look.

 

“Yes, this demon belongs to a religious sect that worships the Horsemen and prepare for the day they shall return to bring the Apocalypse.”

 

“But last time we ran into these wackos, they seemed harmless enough,” Methos said.

 

###  _1899, The Moulin Rouge, Paris_

_“Ah, Paris!” Methos exclaimed, his arms outstretched. Rupert laughed as Byron twirled Methos around._

_“Where else my good Doctor? Where better to see out the old century and welcome in the new. The Twentieth Century! It will be a time of great hope, of scientific wonder. A second Age of Reason!” Lord Byron proclaimed expansively._

_“I had no idea you were gifted with second sight my Lord!” Rupert said with a chuckle._

_“Do you mock me sir?” Byron said._

_“I? Mock Lord Byron? Never sir,” Rupert replied with mock gravitas. “Indeed, let me prove it by buying another round of drinks. Mademoiselle! Trois Absinthe!” He shouted at the nearest girl and the three sat down at a table. Byron eyed up the rest of the room, his gaze coming to rest on a table across the room, and scowled._

_“Ugh, it’s that horrid dwarf Lautrec. What a boor.”_

_“Jealous that you’re no longer the cripple du jour?” Methos said with a malicious smile._

_“Doctor, you wound me! I’m leaving. I will not stay here to be insulted,” Byron said, standing as quickly as he was able. Methos and Rupert watched him go before both sighed._

_“I suppose we ought to follow him,” Methos suggested, rising._

_“Yes, I suppose so,” Rupert agreed and, dropping money on the table to cover the bill, he rose and followed Methos outside._

_“George, wait!” Methos called out. A little way ahead Byron slowed his pace, but he did not stop. Rupert and Methos quickened their pace and soon closed the distance. “I am sorry my friend, I took the jest too far,” Methos said in his most placatory tone._

_“I ought to challenge you,” Byron said, sounding like a sulky child._

_“Perhaps, but why rob the world of such genius?” Methos said smiling. Byron returned the smile. “So where to next my Lord?”_

_“Oh, I’m tired of bars tonight, let’s retire to my flat. I have an excellent bottle of Absinthe and some opiate that I am assured is of the purest quality. Let us chase the dragon, and whatever other serpent that may arise,” Byron said, his lascivious smile making his intentions clear._

_The next day, Rupert was woken by sunlight filtering in through the shuttered windows. He groaned and raised his hand to cover his eyes. Then he disentangled his legs from a sleeping Methos and gently pushed the naked Byron from atop his torso. Once disencumbered, he trotted across to the small bathroom and splashed water on his face. He heard a noise behind him and span round, to find a goat happily munching on a towel. Rupert had a horrible mental image and hoped to the gods it was an Absinthe induced hallucination and not a memory._

_“Afternoon,” Methos said, coming up behind Rupert and wrapping his arms around his torso. Rupert became suddenly aware of how naked they were._

_“I do hope that isn’t your sword old man,” Rupert said, a wicked smile on his lips. Methos laughed and kissed Rupert’s shoulder before sauntering back into the bedroom._

_“Come and get dressed,” Methos called out, “I’m famished. We can get an early dinner before we go to the theatre.”_

_“Oh but look, it’s only really just past lunchtime. Do we really have to go out so soon?” Byron sounded like a whiny little toddler from where Rupert was standing. In most it would be irritating, but somehow Byron made it sound charming. Rupert strode back into the bedroom._

_“So what do you suggest we do your lordship?” Rupert said with a grin._

_“He needs bed rest. Doctor’s orders,” Methos said with a laugh. From the bathroom the goat bleated._

_Several hours later, the three Immortals were headed back to the Moulin Rouge for dinner and a show to see in the new year. As they passed a shady looking old storehouse however, they heard sounds of chanting. Curiosity got the better of Rupert and he headed towards the open door._

_“What are you doing?” Methos called, “Come on! We’ll miss the opening act. I hear there’s a snake in it.”_

_“Ssh. I recognise what they’re saying, it’s a demon dialect. I just can’t quite make out the words…”Rupert muttered._

_“Oh for heaven’s sake Rupert! Now is not the time for dark matters of the occult. It is a time for wine and sex and drugs!” Byron said laughing. _

_Rupert turned to answer, but he was grabbed from behind by strong arms that reached out from the open doorway. Byron and Methos rushed forward to help, but more came out and they were surrounded. _

_“You have us at a disadvantage sirs.” Byron said with a shrug. _

_The only reply he received was a blow to the head, rendering him unconscious, and he was swiftly joined in unconsciousness by Methos and Rupert._

_They awoke to find themselves lying on an altar, but surprisingly they were not bound. With a groan, Rupert sat up and looked around. They were in a room lit by thousands of blood red candles._

_“Bit clichéd isn’t it?” came Methos’ voice beside him. “I mean, for a satanic ritual.”_

_“We do not worship Satan,” the answer came from the shadows, a harsh, raspy voice, “He does not exist. The idea sprang from the writings of Dante and Milton. We worship something far older than Christianity.” _

_The owner of the voice stepped into the light, and the three Immortals could see that he was a demon. His skin was purple and he had no nose, although he looked otherwise human._

_“Then what foul creature do you worship demon?” Byron asked._

_“We worship an idea. We worship the apocalypse. We worship chaos. We worship the Horsemen,” the demon replied. The three Immortals laughed, though Rupert and Methos spared each other a knowing glance._

_“The Horsemen? As in the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse?” Byron said with a snort, little guessing that one of them sat beside him._

_“The same. And tonight, as the new century dawns, we seek four willing sacrifices to herald their arrival.”_

_“Four? But there are only three of us,” Giles said._

_“And who said we’re willing?” Methos added._

_“One of our clan is human, but the rest are demon and the ritual requires human sacrifice. If you are not willing then you are free to leave. But do you not think it a glorious calling, to be host to the Horsemen?” the demon asked. Methos laughed in response._

_“Careful.” Rupert warned._

_“Actually, this could be fun. I mean, we know for certain it can’t possibly work,” Methos said with a chuckle._

_“I suppose not. But what about the other poor chap? The one who won’t wake up?” _

_“That’s his lookout. The silly bugger volunteered didn’t he?” Methos replied. “Er, how exactly would you kill us?” he asked the chief demon._

_“A knife to the heart. It will be quick and painless,” the demon replied, a proud smile on his face._

_“I say it’s a laugh. What better way to see in the new millennium right? Byron, are you with me?” Methos queried._

_“Sounds like fun,” Byron replied. Rupert sighed._

_“Alright, I’m in,” Rupert said._

###  _*-*_

“So what happened?” Xander asked.

 

“We died. Duh!” Methos said.

 

“But what about the fourth?”

 

“No idea. He wasn’t there when we woke up, and neither were his mates. He probably came to his senses and buggered off.”

 

“But why should this cult be after Adam?” Xander asked. Giles and Methos looked at one another, uncomfortably. “Unless…” Xander said, realisation dawning in his eyes. Methos looked to Giles for help, but none was forthcoming.

 

“Unless what?” Methos asked cautiously.

 

“Well, maybe they discovered that you were working on the Methos chronicles. If they found that out then they might think you know where to find him.”

 

Giles and Methos both internally let out a sigh of relief.

 

“No, I don’t think that can be it. The sect seems to be unaware that the Horsemen existed and even if they knew that, they certainly don’t know that they’re Immortals,” Giles said. “Now, let’s go and find out what our friend has to say for himself. Xander, you stay here please and look through the database for any information on the current whereabouts of the Horsemen.”

 

He and Methos knew that he was letting Xander go on a wild goose chase. The most he would find was that Duncan MacLeod had killed two Horsemen and a third was killed by an unknown Immortal. Thanks to the tinkering of Joe and Methos there was no information on Methos for at least two hundred years and nothing solid for nearly five centuries. And there was absolutely nothing to link Adam Pierson to that submarine base in the south of France.

 

The two ancient Immortals walked down the corridor from Giles’ office to the room where the demon was being held.

 

“What if they do know who I am Rupert?” Methos hissed.

 

“As I said to Xander, that’s highly unlikely. I wasn’t lying to him and I’m not lying to you. Although it does seem rather strange they should take such an interest in you.”

 

They entered the interrogation room, more a broom closet really, only six feet square. The walls had been left bare, the greying plaster adding to the oppressive feeling that the room generated. A few well placed spells increased the feelings of despair for any prisoner held there and made them more willing to talk. The demon was strapped to a wall on the far side from the door. Human rights didn’t apply to non-humans.

 

“Why were you following me?” Methos demanded as soon as he entered. The demon just scowled at him.

 

“Silence won’t help you. We know that you belong to the Sect Quaquitator. Tell us why you were following him and we will let you rejoin your brothers,” Giles said amicably. The demon laughed.

 

“I’ve seen television. This is what humans call the good cop bad cop routine isn’t it? Well it won’t work. I serve the noble cause and if you kill me I go to my end with a glad heart.”

 

“I thought your clan seek only to bring about the resurrection of the Four Horsemen?” Giles asked. The demon looked slightly shaken that they knew so much about his sect, but he did not answer.

 

“Tell me, how is following me everywhere and ransacking my room going to bring about the apocalypse?” Methos demanded. Still the demon did not answer. Frustrated, Methos drew his sword and placed it against the demon’s neck. “Dammit, answer me!”

 

Suddenly the demon broke free of his bonds, demonstrating a hitherto unsuspected supernatural strength. He thrust himself forward, onto Methos’ blade, severing his head from his neck. Methos and Giles watched the head bounce across the floor and the body slump to the floor.

 

“The bloody fool. He would rather die than tell us what he was doing?” Giles said sadly.

 

“Now what do we do? There goes our only lead,” Methos said.


	4. Chapter 4

Methos sat opposite Giles in a dingy corner of an equally dingy pub.

 

“Remind me again what we’re doing in a demon bar? It’s definitely not for the atmosphere or the beer,” Methos sniped and raised his murky glass to examine the contents. He pulled a disgusted face and placed the glass back on the table.

 

“We’re here because this is the only place the contact would agree to meet us,” Giles replied.

 

“Couldn’t we at least have waited somewhere that serves decent beer? This looks as though it could kill me,” Methos whined.

 

“You’ll live,” Giles snapped.

 

“I’m sorry Rupert, have I done something to upset you?”

 

“Upset me? What could you have possibly done to upset me? You know, for a man who likes to keep his head down, you attract a bloody large amount of trouble,” Giles’ voice had sunk to a near whisper that was almost a growl.

 

“Oh, like this is my fault. I didn’t ask for this Rupert…”Methos was cut off by the approach of a very tall, lanky looking demon with large bat-like ears and only three digits on each hand. The demon sat down and looked furtively around the room before beginning to speak.

 

“Mr Giles. The Quaquitator aren’t looking for your friend, they’re looking for something they believe he has,” he said quietly.

 

“Did you find out what Errol?” Giles asked the demon.

 

“No, I’m sorry Mr Giles. I tried, but they just kept on saying about how it would bring about the End of Days. I couldn’t even get them to tell me where the temple was,” Errol replied.

 

“Never mind, you’ve done well Errol, thank you,” Giles pulled a small sack from under the table and passed it to Errol. The demon looked around once more and then left. The two Immortals waited a few moments before following.

 

“Well that was about as much use as a chocolate teapot,” Methos said as they got back onto the street. It was dark outside, the city council having apparently decided that it was a bad idea to put lights on side streets in dangerous parts of the city.

 

“On the contrary, we now know that they aren’t after you. They want something you have, or they think you have, which will bring about the resurrection of the Horsemen.”

 

“But that’s ridiculous, we know they can’t.”

 

“We know that, they believe otherwise. Perhaps they are after the Methos Chronicle. By the way, you do know we’re being followed don’t you?”

 

“Yeah, they left the pub just after us,” Methos replied. They stopped, looking around as if lost. In the darkness they heard soft footfalls.

 

“You shouldn’t have been in that bar mates,” came a voice from the dark.

 

“Was it members only? Sorry, didn’t know. Won’t happen again,” Methos called out, softly he added to Giles, “What do you think? Three?”

 

“Yes. Vampires would be a safe bet,” Giles replied, then he called out to the dark, “We’re on holiday, we just stopped off for a pint, got a bit lost. Do you know the way back to Oxford Street from here?”

 

The two ancient Immortals appeared to the casual observer to be every bit the lost tourists they purported to be. In fact, they were both listening as the vampires circled them, poised for attack, hands inching closer to their concealed swords.

 

With a snarl the vampires pounced, and with near equal speed the two Immortals drew their swords. Giles dusted the closest of them as he pulled his sword from his coat, his swing neatly cutting the vampire in half. Methos wasn’t quite so lucky, the vampire nearest him managed to tackle him to the ground, clamping his arms to his sides. As the vampire leaned in to bite him, Methos head butted the vampire.

 

It probably hurt Methos more than the demon, but it startled him into letting go of Methos’ arms and he was able to punch the vampire back enough for a decent sword swing that cleanly took off the vamp’s head.

 

That left the third, the seeming leader of the group, who Giles was currently fighting hand to hand. Apparently during Methos’ own little struggle Giles had managed to drop his sword and was now resorting to fisticuffs. He was holding up well, thousands of years of skill and centuries of Watching and training Slayers making him a match for the supernatural speed and strength of the vampire.

 

Realising that Methos was now free to help; Giles orchestrated the fight, manoeuvring his opponent with his blows until the vampire had his back to Methos. Methos correctly interpreted Giles’ idea and when the vampire was in position he swung, and the demon was dust.

 

Giles walked over to his sword and picked it up, along with his glasses, which had been knocked off in the fight. He placed both back in his coat and turned to Methos, who punched him in the jaw.

 

“Ow! What the hell did you do that for?” Giles asked, rubbing his jaw.

 

“See what you’ve got me into? Fighting vampires! I don’t fight Immortals if I can help it, and you’ve got me fighting vampires,” Methos exclaimed.

 

“That’s not my bloody fault. If you want to be pissed off with anyone, it should be the Quaquitator! They’re the reason you’re in this,” Giles said, stepping up to Methos so they were toe to toe.

 

“Yeah, well they aren’t here. Or I would be hitting them.”

 

“Really? You want to find them? You don’t want to just go back to the States?” Giles asked, surprised and faintly amused.

 

“I’m glad you find it funny. Yes I want to find them. I don’t want to spend the rest of Adam Pierson’s life looking over my shoulder. I quite like this identity, I’m not ready to change it yet,” Methos replied. “We’re just sitting on our arses, waiting for them to find me. Isn’t there anything we can do? Can’t one of your lot do a locator spell?”

 

“None of my lot, as you call them, have that sort of power. There is someone…but it might cause problems for Xander. I’ll have to talk to him first,” Giles said.

 

“Well okay then. At least that’s doing something,” Methos said. He tried to walk past Giles, but Rupert blocked him, then punched him squarely on the jaw. “Youch! I didn’t hit you that hard.”

 

 

The next day, Giles called Xander into his office and closed the door.

 

“What’s up G? You look all serious,” Xander asked. Giles ignored the shortening of his name and pressed on.

 

“Xander, Adam and I are having difficulty in locating the demons. I’ve exhausted every avenue available to us. I need to ask Willow to help us.”

 

“Yeah, that makes sense. Wills makes with the mojo, one locator spell later and you’ve found your demons. Sounds like a plan to me,” Xander replied.

 

“So you’re okay with her coming here?” Giles asked, concern clear on his face. Xander was puzzled.

 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he asked.

 

“Well, the two of you have always shared everything…” Giles began awkwardly. Realisation dawned on Xander.

 

“You want to know if I’m gonna tell her about the whole Immortal swords and lightning deal?”

 

“Well, mostly just the not dying bit. I’m not sure even Willow could understand about the Game Xander. I think of all the Sunnydale group she’s the most likely to understand, but…”

 

“Look, don’t sweat it, I won’t tell her about the Game. But I don’t think I can hide something like this from her Giles. And I certainly don’t intend to cut Wills out of my life when she starts to notice I’m not getting older,” Xander said. Giles nodded his understanding.

 

“But please, don’t tell her about me. I don’t think she would understand why I lied to you. Besides, she would be compelled to tell Buffy, and I’m certain_ she_ wouldn’t understand.”

 

“No problem Giles. My lips are sealed. If Buffy found out about this, she’d have both our heads,” Xander quipped.

 

“Or worse,” Giles agreed with a smile. “I’ll call Willow now and get her on the first available flight. I suggest you start thinking about how you are going to tell her.”


	5. Chapter 5

One locator spell later and Willow was able to pinpoint the hideout of the Quaquitator sect. Giles sent some of his most trusted Watchers to the site to keep an eye on any activity while they decided on a plan of action.

 

“We should just barge in there, weapons blazing and demand answers,” Methos said. Giles looked at him for a moment, eyebrow raised in scepticism.

 

“Not to rain on your military parade, but I don’t think acting like the Dirty Dozen will work, Adam,” Xander interjected.

 

“Indeed,” Giles concurred, “Softly, softly is certainly the way forward. We have no idea of their numbers or their intentions.”

 

“Their intention is to kill me!” Methos said.

 

“We don’t know that, they have made no visible threat to your person. We could end up starting a war against these demons when they had never intended any violence,” Giles replied.

 

“They worship the _Horsemen_!” Methos snapped back.

 

“Let’s just say that you’re rather biased on the subject and leave it at that,” Giles said softly, immediately shutting Methos up. “As soon as the Watchers I sent out confirm that the sect are there, we shall go to them, _unarmed_,” Giles continued, looking pointedly at Methos, “and find out what it is they truly want from you.”

 

Methos opened his mouth to protest, but Giles held up his hand to stop him.

 

“Willow and a small group of Slayers will be waiting out of sight. If the situation becomes violent, we will signal for the cavalry.”

 

“What’s the signal?” Willow asked.

 

“How about the Team America secret signal?” Xander quipped, causing Willow to snigger.

 

“I was thinking more along the lines of a flare actually, Xander,” Giles said.

 

“And what if we’re incapacitated?” Methos pointed out.

 

“Then we have to hope Will’s Spider-sense is tingling,” Xander said with a grin.

 

“Is he always like this?” Methos asked.

 

 

“Pretty much, yes,” Giles replied. “Now, Willow, could you go and gather some Slayers together please. I suggest we rendezvous in the car park in thirty minutes. I’ll go to the armoury and gather up some weapons,” Giles said. Willow nodded and left the room. Once she was gone, Giles continued, “Adam, you can bring your sword with you, I wouldn’t suggest anything else, but it stays concealed unless everything goes sour. Do you understand?”

 

“I understand, _Rwpyrt. _Stop talking to me like a kid,” Methos sniped.

 

“Then stop acting like one _Adam,_” Giles snapped back before leaving.

 

 

“Xander, a moment?” Methos asked and reached out to stop the younger man from following Giles, “Please just hold back on talking to Willow about your Immortality until you’ve had a chance to think this through properly,” Methos said.

 

“You’ve already made it quite clear how you feel about the subject thank you, Adam,” Xander snapped back and began heading for the door, but Methos blocked his exit.

 

“I’m trying to look out for you, you daft bugger. Even if she accepts who you are; even if it all works out as you hope, don’t you think Willow would want to help you win? You’ll have to explain the Game, you’ll tell her the Rules and ask her not to help, but she’s your friend. I’m sure she’ll faithfully promise to not interfere, but is she really the sort of person to just stand by and not help when your life is in danger?  I’ll admit I don’t know her, but I do know people and I have a feeling that, behind your back, she’ll enchant your sword or something else to ensure victory for you.”

 

“Willow wouldn’t do that if I tell her to stay out of it,” Xander insisted.

 

Methos huffed.

 

“Did you really think Rupert lied to you all these years to protect _you_? To protect his precious Slayer? He was protecting himself. When someone cheats, there are quite a few of us, MacLeod being a prime example, whose overgrown sense of honour and justice would make them consider it murder. And they might come looking for your head in retribution,” Methos replied. Xander stopped and looked at him.

 

“I hadn’t thought of it like that. But Giles said it would be okay to tell her.”

 

“Probably because he knew you wouldn’t be able to keep it from her. You and Willow, you’re really close aren’t you?” Methos said kindly.

 

“Closer than close,” Xander agreed.

 

“I understand that it must be hard to lie to someone you’ve previously shared so much with,” Methos said, trying to sound sympathetic, “Most new Immortals have to leave their old lives behind, start over, but your circumstances are...special. Please, just consider what I’ve said.”

 

 

Xander nodded reluctantly.

 

“You make some good points, Adam.  I promise to think about this a little more before I make a decision. I’m sorry for being so...”

 

“Arrogant?”

 

“I was going for something less insulting, but that will do,” Xander finished. He held out his hand in apology and Methos took it.

 

*_*

 

Xander and Methos stood looking at the large warehouse as Giles closed the gate behind them. Across the street a battered old Transit van concealed Willow, half a dozen Slayers and enough weaponry for a small Crusade.

 

“Are you sure this is the right place?” Methos asked.

 

“Willow was quite certain, and the Watchers I sent confirmed that several demons entered the premises twenty minutes ago,” Giles replied.

 

“Yeah, but... seriously?” Xander said, pointing to the sign above their heads, “Four Horsemen Storage? I mean, as secret hideouts go, it’s not exactly secret, is it?”

 

“Nobody said they were clever, Xander,” Giles answered, walking forward. The other two Immortals fell into step as they crossed the yard to the building.

 

“Nervous Adam?” Xander asked. Methos snorted.

 

“Hardly, it’s not exactly my first tea party,” he replied.

 

“Yes, well let’s not have a repeat of Madrid please,” Giles said. Methos grinned, strode up to the door, and knocked. There was no answer so, cautiously, they opened the door and went inside.

 

The warehouse was a typical storage facility, rows and rows of padlocked rooms divided by corridors. They could hear distant voices chanting, but there were no other signs of life.

 

“No guards. Stupid,” Methos said quietly. Xander nodded in agreement.

 

“As far as they are concerned, this is their church,” Giles whispered, “Would you put guards on a church? Look who I’m asking, of course you would.”

 

 

“Better paranoid than dead; that’s always been my motto,” Methos replied with a grin, before creeping to the end of a corridor and looking round. He motioned the other two forward and slipped round the corner.

 

“Adam! Now is not the time to get a hero complex,” Giles hissed before following Methos, leaving Xander to bring up the rear.

 

As they neared the end of the final corridor the voices became louder, until they reached double doors. Giles peeked through a small window in the door, before moving aside to allow Xander and Methos to view the scene. Twenty sect members stood, spread out like a choir, with their backs to the door. In front of them, on a stage-like construction, was a tall, purple demon.

 

“Isn’t that the one from Paris?” Methos asked.

 

“Looks like him. Demons have long lives too you know,” Giles replied.

 

“Let’s just hope he doesn’t have a long memory,” Methos whispered darkly. On the other side of the door, the chanting ended and the congregation fell out of formation. “Looks like the ceremony’s over.”

 

“It’s now or never then gentlemen. Xander, you stay here. If anything should happen to us, you have to alert Willow. No heroics please, if the head priest recognises us and realises we’re Immortal; he may know how to kill us. After you Adam,” Giles said. Methos sneered at him, then pushed the door open quietly.

 

“I didn’t want to ask in front of the children, but do you actually have any grand plan, oh glorious head Watcher?” Methos muttered from the side of his mouth as they walked forward into the room.

 

“Not a clue, teacher of mine, I assumed you had one,” Giles replied sarcastically, “Anyway, what’s to plan? We ask them nicely what they want; if they get nasty we slay them.”

 

“Simple, but effective,” Methos said with amusement. By now the closest demons had noticed their arrival and a murmur was spreading through the room. Methos smiled and addressed the nearest demon, “Take us to your leader.” Giles groaned at the cliché. “What?” Methos asked with a smirk.

 

“We’re all going to die,” Giles said. They were grabbed roughly by two demons and frog-marched to the front of the stage, where the chief priest was still standing.

 

 

“I am Krionys, High Priest of the Secuutus Quattuor Equitatus. What are you doing here, humans?” he croaked.

 

The similarity between his name and that of the leader of the Horsemen did not go unnoticed by either Immortal. Perhaps the sect knew more about the Horsemen than either had suspected. Methos shrugged himself free from the demon holding him and stepped forward.

 

“I want to know why the bloody hell you’ve been chasing me,” he demanded.

 

“Chasing you? I don’t even know who you are.”

 

“I’m Adam Pierson.”

 

“Sorry, but that name doesn’t ring a bell,” Krionys replied, looking genuinely apologetic.

 

“You ransacked my room! And you’ve been following me for weeks! We captured one of your assailants,” Methos protested.

 

“Ah, Scrimgeour. He met his death well I presume?” Krionys asked.

 

“He revealed nothing to us. He was loyal to your cause,” Giles said. “We don’t wish any harm to you or yours, we simply want answers. We know you want something Adam has in his possession, tell us what and we may be able to give it to you.”

 

“We seek a holy relic of great importance to our sect. We used a locator spell that led us to a hotel room, but we did not know the identity of he who possessed the sacred document,” Krionys explained. Methos blanched.

 

_Have they figured out the Horsemen were Immortals? Do they want my Chronicle? _he wondered. He spared a glance at Rupert and could tell from the look on his face that he was thinking the same thing.

 

“What document?” Methos asked the demon.

 

“A prophecy, written in ancient times of the Four Horsemen, that tells of the time when they will ride the Earth again, and rain fire and destruction upon all!” Krionys said with a maniacal laugh. Methos snorted, but looked apologetic when Giles shot him a warning look.

 

“Was this prophecy written in Egyptian?” Giles asked.

 

“Then you have seen it!” Krionys exclaimed, and his excitement sparked a fresh bout of chanting from his gathered followers. Methos couldn’t help himself, and burst out laughing. Krionys scowled at him

 

“Oh, I’m sorry, I don’t mean to laugh, but... that’s too funny! All this time, I was worried for my life, and you just want a scrap of papyrus?” Methos asked.

 

 

 “Legend says that prophecy was written down by Death himself. It may be a scrap of papyrus to you, but to us it is sacred!” Krionys said, clearly growing angry.

 

Methos stopped laughing and reached into his pocket. He withdrew his wallet and extracted the piece of papyrus on which he had written his first fiction so many years ago. He had taken the papyrus from Giles’ office after their first discussion, and with all the madness that had ensued he had not had time to remove it from his wallet.

 

“My apologies. Here, you can have it; it’s been in my pocket all this time. You know you only had to ask, and I would have given it to you weeks ago! Would have saved a lot of bother,” Methos said, pulling the tatty fragment of papyrus from his pocket.

 

Krionys took it from him, reverently, and held it aloft. The other assembled adherents shouted for joy, and the demon holding Giles released him.

 

“Thank you for giving this to us. You shall not go unrewarded. We shall sacrifice you in honour of the Horsemen!” Krionys said with a wicked grin. Giles and Methos looked at each other and shrugged.

 

“We’d be honoured,” Giles said to Krionys, who was surprised but happy at their reply.

 

“This is getting to be a habit,” Methos whispered to Giles as they were led onto the staging area.

*-*

 

Outside, Xander watched through the window as Giles and Adam lay down on the stage. He couldn’t hear what was said, but he had a feeling he knew what was going on. The others didn’t seem in any real danger though, and they weren’t trying to struggle. When the priest pulled a dagger from his robe, and Giles grinned at Adam, Xander knew they weren’t in any danger of being beheaded. So, he stood back and enjoyed the show.

 

After the priest had stabbed them through the heart, there was a bit more chanting and then the demons left through an outer door on the opposite side of the room. Once the room was clear, Xander hurried over to the stage, just as Giles and Methos came back.

 

“You could have sent in the cavalry,” Methos sniped.

 

“What, and start an unnecessary war?” Xander said with a grin and offered them both a hand up.

 

“Don’t worry Adam, just for that he’ll have double practise when Willow’s gone. For a week,” Giles said. Xander groaned.

 

 

“You’ve got a real sadistic streak I never noticed before,” Xander observed.

 

“Can’t think where it came from,” Giles said.

 

Methos shot Giles a look that would have killed a mortal, but Giles merely smiled. Giles and Methos had rearranged their clothes so that the drying blood wouldn’t show and the three headed back the way they had come.

 

*-*

 

Giles and Methos sat in Giles’ office, drinking whiskey. Giles pulled a box of cigars from a drawer and offered one to Methos.

 

“So, back to the States in the morning?” Giles asked.

 

“I’ve no reason to hang around now. Back to Adam Pierson’s life, for now anyway,” Methos replied. Giles nodded.

 

“Having you here, seeing you again, it’s been good,” Giles admitted with a smile, “It was nice to be reminded that I wasn’t always a Watcher.”

 

“I’m not normally one to reminisce, but I must admit it’s been good to see an old friend. Especially one that wasn’t trying to kill me.”

 

“Talking of which, I would like to know what happened in France, one day. They were an important part of my life too, as much as we’d both like to forget those days,” Giles mused, “We can’t change who we were or who we are.”

 

“Oh, very philosophical. Get that from a fortune cookie did you? Four thousand years and that’s the best you could do?” Methos said with a smirk.  Giles laughed and after a moment, Methos joined in adding, “I tell you one thing. It’s the last time you’ll catch me writing fiction.”


End file.
